


Two More Wishes

by C4t1l1n4



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Djinn Jaskier | Dandelion, Djinni & Genies, Episode: s01e05 Bottled Appetites, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is a floaty boi, Kaer Morhen, Mutual Pining, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Tired Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wordcount: Under 10.000, slow burn but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4
Summary: What if Jaskier is the Djinn that Geralt pulls out of the lake?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 43
Kudos: 727





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt finds a Djinn and asks for sleep

Geralt is tired. 

Well, to say that he’s tired is a vast understatement, but he can’t think of any better word to describe it than tired. 

So, Geralt is tired. 

He hasn’t been able to sleep in so long that he stopped keeping count of the time that’s passed since he’s been able to more than simply meditate for a couple of hours. It’s starting to get dangerous, he thinks, the number of times he’s been willing to pay whatever price for a potion that’s supposed to knock him out, the number of times he’s almost been critically injured in a fight due to slow reaction times. At this point, it’s just getting ridiculous. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, or so they say. 

Which is why he finds himself knee-deep in water, throwing a fishing net into this lake over and over again. Local legend has it that a Djinn is at the bottom of this lake - gods help him if Vesemir could see him now - and he’s been fishing for it for the past several hours. Djinn are, of course, incredibly dangerous and not to be messed with - they have a thing for killing their masters, you see - but not sleeping for any longer is a fate worse than death, so here he is. 

He goes to pull the net in and recast it when he feels some resistance, and he could almost collapse right then and there at the prospect of actually finding it. Sure enough, as he hauls the net out of the water and into his lap where he’s perched on the shore, there is the Djinn’s amphora. If Witchers could cry, Geralt thinks, he might be right now. 

The lid slides out with an unsatisfying ‘pop’ and for a terrible second, absolutely nothing happens. But then, the wind picks up, dancing through the trees, leaving something akin to laughter in its wake. Geralt tenses automatically and the water ripples nearby, causing the Witcher to startle to his feet, stumbling back. Trees quiver around him, waving their branches in the small breeze, flowers dancing to the tune of the laughter. It’s the snap of a stick, the crunch of leaves underfoot that has him whirling around. 

He’s met with a younger man, 30 at the most, who is dressed in bright turquoise clothing that seems more fitting for a royal court than adventuring through the middle of the woods and the wind plucks at strands of chestnut hair. The entire figure gives off an unsettling presence like he doesn’t belong there, but he blinds Geralt with a dazzling smile. “Jaskier.” The man says, giving a small bow, though Geralt can see the mockery in his movements. “And you might you be?”

“What are you doing here?” Geralt snarls instead, still holding the amphora in his hands.

Jaskier throws his head back with laughter, warm and melodic as it spills from his mouth. Something about it just fills the air, permeates the atmosphere with the emotion spilling from him, and the flowers around them lean towards him like he’s the sun, hoping to soak up some of his warmth. He leans so far back that, for a second, Geralt wonders if he’s going to fall completely on his ass, but instead he just floats in the air, curling into a ball as he attempts to regain control over himself. 

“Djinn.” Geralt says, less of a snarl than he intended and more of a general statement of what was obvious. 

“Yes,” The man exclaims, throwing his arms out in a dramatic fashion, still floating three or four feet off the ground. “That is me. You get three wishes. What will they be?” He asks, some of the joy suddenly seeping out of him, replaced by an undertone of seriousness. 

“I want to sleep.” Geralt states simply, but the Djinn seems to pay him no mind. 

“You know what you need?” He crows, “A reputation boost!” With a dramatic twirl of his hands, a lute plops in his lap and he starts strumming it, contemplating. “Yes, yes, since you didn’t give me your name, what shall we call you?” His gaze flickers up and down Geralt’s body, thoroughly looking him over. “How about…” his eyes linger on the medallion around his neck which hums softly. “The White Wolf!” 

The Djinn seems happy with his choice and sets forth strumming the instrument in his hold. Geralt huffs, annoyed. “This is why I found you on the bottom of a lake.” He mutters to no one in particular, but Jaskier hears him anyway, the music screeching to a halt.

“Fine,” His eyes are a hard icy gray instead of the soft cornflower blue they were before, “You want to sleep? Then sleep.” The Djinn plucks the lute, a particularly sour note ringing out into the open air, and Geralt falls to the ground. 

———  
The next time he wakes, it’s to the midday sun and the soft chords of a lute. 

He blinks his eyes, reaching up to rub at them as he shifts to sit up. He wakes up slowly, his guard down, and at ease. He takes the time to enjoy it, soaking in the peaceful surroundings until his gaze lands on Jaskier, who leans up against a tree, plucking the lute. 

Geralt shifts and it suddenly draws the Djinn’s attention, cornflower eyes meeting molten golden. “You’re awake!” He declares, hopping to his feet. “It’s been awfully boring without you, you know.” 

“How long was I asleep?” Geralt asks, suddenly nervous. He knows that Djinn are dangerous creatures, and Jaskier could’ve made him sleep for years if he wanted to. 

Jaskier shrugs, “I stopped keeping count after 50 sunrises.” He says, nonchalantly. The Witcher tenses, surveying his surroundings. It was mid-summer when he found the amphora, was it fall already? His gaze darts around his surroundings, cataloging it more carefully and he stands to his feet, desperately searching for Roach. It’s only then when he notices the growing smile on Jaskier’s face until he can’t contain it any longer and laughs. “Oh.. oh my.” The Djinn cackles, floating up into the air again, lute hanging from his back. “That… that is too good.” Geralt stares at him unimpressed. Finally, the Djinn gets himself under control once more. “You’ve only been asleep for a week.” He says sincerely, “But that should teach you to word your wishes more carefully, and not to insult me. In a fit of rage like that, well,” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I could’ve done anything.”

Geralt huffs, cautious but unimpressed and gathers his things to find Roach. Swords on his back, amphora in hand, Geralt heads in the direction he came, back towards the town he left Roach in. Lute music follows him. 

“Do you want to hear what I wrote for you, while you were terribly boring in your sleep?” The Djinn questions from somewhere behind him, but continues talking before Geralt has a chance to say anything, not that he would anyway. “I mean, honestly. You find a Djinn and the first thing you do it insult me and then ask - in a very nonspecific way, mind you - to sleep. You asked to sleep?” The Djinn’s indignant voice rings out. “Don’t they teach you anything in Witcher school? I mean, honestly.” 

Jaskier continues to ramble and eventually loops back around to singing the song that he wrote. Geralt wisely keeps his mouth shut. Even if the song wasn’t half bad. Eventually, the Djinn’s mindless babble trails off, and Geralt gets about 5 minutes of silence before he speaks up again. 

“Where are we going?” Jaskier asks, suddenly appearing in front of Geralt, hanging upside down in the air. His clothes remain unaffected by the gravity of his position, but his hair - for some reason - is helpless to the pull and dangles down. Geralt is forced to stop as Jaskier hangs there, waiting for an answer. 

“Into town,” comes his short reply. “Need to get my horse.” He walks around the Djinn, before pausing and turning back. Jaskier now floats in the air right side up, but belly down, much like he’s being carried by the seat of his pants. “You do know, that when we get into town, you’re going to have to walk normally, right?” He points out. 

Jaskier shrugs, spinning in place a bit. “You do realize you have two more wishes, right?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Geralt decides how to use the rest of his wishes, they travel around the Continent and slowly become fast friends (not that Geralt will admit it.) 
> 
> They run into trouble, however, when they come across a town that is less than friendly towards Witchers for the first time.

The town is rather uneventful. 

Geralt makes quick work of collecting Roach and leads them out of there before the Djinn can wreak too much havoc. Jaskier remains on his feet the entire time, as promised, but he's a little too floaty when he walks like there's a lack of gravity holding him in place. Geralt doesn’t need to attract any more trouble or attention. He gets enough of as it is. 

The Djinn has long since stopped asking if Geralt was going to use his second wish, Geralt insists that wishes shouldn’t be used recklessly, and Jaskier doesn’t want to press the issue. How could he ask for anything better than this, being free from his vessel, getting to travel and see the world? It’s the most fun he’s had in many lifetimes. He’s gotten better at coming off as human when they trod into heavily populated areas, but there is still a distinct aura of power and a general feeling that something is just _off_ about the bard, but humans can’t really detect that kind of thing, so Geralt doesn’t worry about much. Jaskier is a master actor, quick and cunning, though he supposes that’s a key trait for most Djinns, given their love for trickery and mischief. 

But Jaskier is a surprisingly comfortable traveling companion. He doesn’t need food or water - though he’ll gladly indulge in them given the chance - has a seemingly endless supply of energy, and can take care of himself. The only thing he really has to worry about in regards to his newly acquired Djinn is that he can’t _keep his mouth shut._

It’s not much a problem, normally, Geralt can tune out any mindless babble and doesn’t mind the soft lute music in the background, but when they go through their first town that is hostile towards Witchers, well, Jaskier doesn’t take it too kindly. In the months traveling together since he found the amphora and made his first wish, Jaskier has made it his duty to give Geralt a reputation boost, even though the Witcher didn’t wish for it. He can tell, however, that Jaskier’s songs are working, if not slowly, but Geralt has made the Djinn promise not to use any magic when swaying people’s opinions. 

So the first fight Jaskier picks happens about 2 months after they’ve started traveling together. Geralt can tell before the first person opens their mouth, that this isn’t going to end well. Jaskier is walking beside Roach, as he normally does, happily humming a tune when the first stones are thrown. 

“Get out of here, Butcher!” A man off to their right screams, and other voices chime in with various snide remarks, their actual words getting lost in the jumble of noise. 

Geralt slips the hood of his cloak over his head as he is pelted with rocks, anything from small pebbles to fist-sized stones. Geralt can practically feel the air around the Djinn shift and glances down at him. The only time Jaskier's human facade is in danger of slipping is when he’s experiencing extreme emotions, whether happy, sad or, in this case, rage. The Djinn’s hands clench and unclench by his side, and there is a light, flickering like a flame, kindling in those cornflower eyes. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, keeping his voice low but as a warning. 

They make eye contact, the raging fire in the Djinn’s blue eyes melting the sorrowful gold of Geralt’s gaze, but Jaskier takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, quenching the burning anger in his chest. 

“We said get out of here!” The same man for earlier yells, somehow able to project his voice louder than the rest. It’s only then that Geralt realized he had brought Roach to a halt to focus on Jaskier, and calm him down, and apparently, that didn’t win them any favors. 

“C’mon,” Geralt prods, motioning with his head. “The sooner we get out of here the better.”

And they were so close, Geralt thinks, _so close._ But a poorly timed rock finds its way between them, bouncing off Geralt’s armor and hitting Jaskier in the shoulder. It’s not like the impact was very hard, by the time it hit the Djinn most of the force was gone and it plopped sadly to the ground, but it was the straw to break the camel’s back. Jaskier sends his Witcher a grin that is too tight to be polite, and the fire in his eyes, renewed with a passion, tells Geralt all he needs to know. He reaches out to stop him, but he was too late. 

Jaskier scoops the stone off the ground and hurtles it back with startling accuracy, hitting the man who had screeched those awful things. The aura around the Djinn is so bright and shockingly red, that Geralt briefly wonders if his Bard is glowing. The man takes the thrown rock as the invitation for a fight that it is, and Jaskier is not afraid to dive in headfirst, fists flying. By the time that Geralt has leapt off his horse and jostles his way through the crowds, Jaskier has rendered the man a bloodied face and a broken nose. Geralt lifts Jaskier off the man by the back of his doublet, and practically drags him back to Roach, the Djinn snarling the entire way. 

“How fucking dare you?!” Jaskier screams at the crowd, who have stopped their actions to listen. “How dare you form opinions off rumors? Off lies?” Geralt sighs heavily but drags Jaskier up onto Roach with him as the Djinn continues to talk. He kicks Roach back into action, urging her to get them away from these people as quickly as possible, and is just glad that Jaskier hasn’t tried to go after them a second time. 

They come to a halt about three miles away from the village and Geralt goes to make camp, even though it’s only midday. He slides to the ground and turns to Jaskier, who’s anger has now turned into grief, sobbing into his hands. Geralt wordlessly offers a hand to help him down off Roach’s back, and the Djinn accepts, collapsing against the Witcher’s chest. Geralt freezes, suddenly unsure of what to do as Jaskier cries against him, and settles for wrapping his arms around him instead of saying anything. 

“How could they?” Jaskier’s broken voice rasps after a while. Geralt just makes a noncommittal hum and thinks that Jaskier has never looked my human than he does now. 

“C’mon,” Geralt says after a while. “You’ve tired yourself out.”

He guides the Djinn over to a small clearing and settles him against a nearby tree. Geralt can’t help but notice the way that Jaskier slouches. It’s strange, Geralt thinks, to see him all scrunched and curled up. Over their months of traveling, he has noticed that Jaskier’s magic tends to make him lighter, like a helium balloon. Even emotions like anger fuel the bounce in his step, which makes it easy for him to dance around his opponents and not get hit, but this sadness, it seems to drag him down. It’s almost like there is a weight on his shoulders pushing him down, forcing him to stay in place, like the gravity he normally is unaffected by has redoubled their efforts and now keep him stationary. 

Geralt doesn’t like it. 

But he also doesn’t know what to say to make it stop. So instead, he sets up camp, starts a fire and cooks some rabbit, offering it to the Djinn as wordless thanks. It draws a small smile to Jaskier’s lips as he nibbles on the meat. 

“You’re helping, you know.” Geralt finally says, when he gets the courage to say something without worrying it will mess everyone up. Jaskier peers at him curiously over his piece of rabbit. “With your music and whatnot.” Geralt makes a small motion towards his lute. “People are nicer.” He finishes and then nods a little as if agreeing to what he said and happy with his choice of words. He risks a glance over to the Djinn, to see if it helped. Geralt is glad to see Jaskier sitting up a little straighter and can tell that the wheels in his brain are turning. 

“Well, if that’s the case,” Jaskier says, wiping off his hands before grabbing his lute. “I’d better practice.”

“No magic.” Geralt reminds as Jaskier strums a few chords to warm up. 

The Djinn looks over at him scandalized. “These songs are pure talent, mind you.” He exclaims in faux indignant anger, but Geralt gives a small shrug in return like he couldn’t be sure. “You wouldn’t know talent if it hit you in the face.” The Djinn huffs, pointing a finger at the Witcher accusingly.

Geralt can’t help but hide a smile as Jaskier breaks into song, no longer hunched over and sad. The Djinn is very much bright and open and free, a melodious song ringing out into the open air. Magic seeps out through his voice as he gets lost in the lyrics, but Geralt doesn’t mind if it draws some of the forest animals closer, it’s happened before. And if flowers spring up around them, trees swaying to the tune, the river harmonizing in the background, he’ll take it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets Yennefer. 
> 
> Yennefer wants his Djinn. Geralt says no. 
> 
> They do not get along.

Trouble finds them more often than not. 

It’s not that the pair of them go looking for it, Jaskier doesn’t start fights, but he will throw the first punch if people are saying nasty things about Witchers. The problem is, Geralt finds, that a Djinn and a Witcher traveling together, well, it draws attention from those who can tell that Jaskier is more than the human he passes himself off to be. 

A woman approaches him one night, as Jaskier is playing at a local tavern, Geralt brooding in the corner and keeping an eye on the bard as he dances around the room. As soon as she sits down across from him, blocking his view of his bard, he already doesn’t like her, let alone the Chaos he can smell coming off of her in waves. It’s not that Geralt would ever admit it, but he’s grown rather fond of the Djinn hanging around, and it’s not just so he doesn’t cause mischief elsewhere, despite what he tries to convince himself. 

“Witch.” Geralt rumbles out, making his distaste at her presence obvious in his tone. 

“Sorceress.” She smiles back at him, not at all wavering in her confidence. 

Geralt groans internally. “What do you want?”

“I’m Yennifer. Yennifer of Vengerberg.” She pauses, clearly waiting for him to introduce himself, but he continues to stare at her, unimpressed. “I can’t help but notice that you have a Djinn.” She continues after a moment, and Geralt is on edge immediately. 

“What concern is it of yours?” He growls. 

She smiles, seeming to have gotten the reaction she wanted. “If it is still following you around,” Geralt cringes at the use of _it,_ but doesn’t say anything. “Then you must still have a wish left.” 

Geralt can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. “I’m not sharing.” He rumbles out. 

“There’s no need for you to be so selfish, certainly you can spare one wish?” 

Geralt can tell she is not used to being told no. “This conversation is over.” He declares, and motions for her to leave.

She stares at him for a while longer before standing to her feet and storming out, throwing one last glance at his bard. Geralt watches her go, eyes narrowed, before searching the room to find Jaskier. He hunches in his seat, taking a sip of ale to calm his nerves, but keeping his eye on the Djinn for the rest of the set. 

He has a bad feeling about this. 

Jaskier finishes playing and joins Geralt, raising an eyebrow at the Witcher’s tense posture. “Everything alright?” He asks, stealing a sip from his mug. 

“Sorceress.” Geralt huffs. 

“Trouble making friends?” The Djinn teases. 

“She wanted one of my wishes but I told her no. She wasn’t too happy about it.”

Jaskier nods, unsurprised. “She didn’t look too happy, storming out of here. We’ll just have to watch our back for a bit, I suppose.” 

Geralt’s gaze flickers back towards the door.

Yes.

Yes, they would. 

———  
Sorceresses are bad luck, and Geralt knows this. 

They don’t give up easily. He should’ve known better than to have counted it as a victory when she left the tavern by her own free will. 

When they return to their room in the inn, it’s ransacked. Their stuff is strewn everywhere, their coin is gone and some of his potions too. Others were spilled, Cat and Swallow running across the floor. They carry most of their important items with them, thankfully, like Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s swords, but a distinct sense of panic settles over the room. 

“You said she was after me, right?” Jaskier asks, the happy tone to his voice and floaty nature to his body gone. Geralt nods and Jaskier swallows. “Where’s the amphora?”

Geralt’s freezes for a second, something like ice-cold water shooting through his veins before he darts to his pack, where he normally keeps the Djinn’s vessel. He practically dumps it onto the floor but finds nothing. 

The amphora was gone. 

“Geralt!” Comes the Djinn’s cry, and the Witcher whirls around just in time to see Jaskier flicker twice, before disappearing, lute falling out of his grasp and clattering to the floor. Geralt snarls, frustrated and concerned for his friend. Who knows what that crazy Witch wants. With nothing but the swords on his back and the distinct scent of chamomile and honey that lingers around from the bard’s magic, he sets off to find them. 

———  
Geralt makes it to the town square before he realizes: he has absolutely no idea where to even start searching for them. She could’ve gone in any direction at any speed, and every second that he spends trying to find her is a second that Jaskier is in danger. 

It sets him on edge. 

It’s a similar feeling to when he leaves Roach somewhere and comes back to find her gone. It’s the split-second drop of his heart, the surge of panic, the feeling that something is not right, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Except he has no idea how to solve it. It doesn’t go away in an instant, it’s not easily fixed by scanning his surroundings to find she’s only wandered off to eat some better clover from a nearby patch of land. It’s suddenly too silent, the air is too still, not buzzing with magic, no boisterous laughter, no lute music, no floating into the air. It’s all off and wrong and how did he ever live without it?

He stops. 

Grounds himself. 

Takes a deep breath. 

Now is not the time to panic. 

He needs to focus so he can find them before that Witch - he continues to call her Witch in his head because she is _nasty_ and _cruel_ and _does not_ deserve a more elegant title - wrangles whatever she wanted his wish for out of Jaskier. 

And then it hits him. Geralt could almost laugh at his own stupidity if it wasn’t such a dire situation. 

He still has 2 wishes. 

He takes a deep breath and relaxes, thinking about the best way of phrasing his second wish, even though he is certain that Jaskier wouldn’t twist his words into anything nasty. 

_"I would like to be able to find Jaskier.”_ He says quietly, almost reverently to himself. 

He can’t help but think there were better ways of phrasing that, but words were never his strong subject and he just hopes it was enough. He is drawn out of his thoughts by a flickering light in front of him. Geralt squints his eyes, studying it further, and notices that it appears to be a Will-o'-the-Wisp, even though they are a long way from the nearest forest. He watches curiously as more and more appear, flickering in the impending darkness. They flicker between two shades of blue, a bright cyan, and a deep almost purplish-blue. 

Cornflower.

The color of Jaskier’s eyes. 

They must be leading him to Jaskier as a result of his wish, and Geralt hurries to follow the trail that they lead. It does make sense, he can’t help but think, Jaskier’s magic did tend to attract nature. He makes a mental note to ask Jaskier later, after all this, if he was friends with them.

——  
The Will-o'-the-Wisps lead him to a crumbling stone house on the outskirts of town. Geralt is just thankful that the Witch didn’t go very far. She must have thought this was going to be a quick and easy process, or just that he wouldn’t find her this quickly. 

He enters the house carefully, on guard, but can quickly tell there is no one else here besides the three of them, and the witch seems fully occupied with the Djinn. He finds them in a bedroom off the main corridor and hates the sight that he stumbles upon. 

Jaskier is in the middle of some sort of sigil painted onto the floor, and even though they’ve only been separated for about half of an hour, he looks absolutely miserable. Not only does the sigil restrain him from moving, caging him like an exotic animal, but the Djinn also reeks of sadness, which compresses him even more. 

“I’ve already told you.” He hears Jaskier say, and the words are resigned like he’s been saying this over and over again. “I can’t give you what I want.”

“You granted his wish!” The witch exclaims, clearly upset. The amphora is tightly clutched in one of her hands. 

Jaskier sighs, defeated. “Even if you were the one with the wishes, I can not give you what you ask.” 

“You’re lying.” She shrieks once more, and Geralt has had enough. 

“I thought I said no.” Geralt says, stepping in the room and making himself known. 

“Oh, Geralt. Thank the gods.” Jaskier sags in relief, tension leaving his body. 

“You!” The Witch whirls to face him, throwing Chaos towards him. Geralt dives out of the way. “Give me your last wish!” 

“He already told you he couldn’t give you whatever it is you want.” Geralt points out. 

“He could be lying.” 

“I’m not lying,” Jaskier exclaims. “If I could give you what you wanted, I would’ve done so by now, just for the sake of getting out of here quicker. I’m not sitting in this trap for my health.” 

The Witch huffs, fuming. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Geralt begins placatingly. “So just get out of here, and leave us alone and I won’t kill you for wasting my time.” 

“I’m not scared of you Witcher.” She snarls back but throws a portal against the wall. 

“Yennefer.” He calls after her. “If you come after my djinn again, I cannot promise the same benevolence the second time. 

She glances back at him from the other side of the portal, then lifts the amphora in her hand, smashing it against the ground. Geralt’s eyes widen, but the portal is shut and the Witcher whirls around to see Jaskier still stuck in the trap. 

“If I break this trap, you’re not going to disappear or anything, will you?” Geralt asks, trying not to let the concern show in his voice. 

“No,” Jaskier stares up at him, confusion coloring his tone. “Why would I?”

“She broke the amphora. Is that going to hurt you?”

“No, it’s not going to hurt me. I’ll be fine.” Jaskier promises. Geralt can tell that he’s hiding something, but doesn’t press the issue, opting to scrub at the seal on the ground, releasing Jaskier from its hold. 

The Djinn almost immediately floats off the ground, lifted into the air by the pure relief of being free once more. “Never,” Jaskier says after a moment, forcing his eyes open to look at Geralt from where they had involuntarily fallen shut, “Never talk to a witch, ever again.” 

Geralt nods in agreement. “Let's go back to the inn.” He says, leading the way out of the house. “We paid for the night, after all.” Jaskier settles to the floor unhappily, eyes fluttering shut. 

“That really-“ He cuts himself off with a yawn, “really took a lot of me. Who knew traps were so draining?” 

Geralt settles an arm around the bard’s waist under the guise of helping him tiredly stumble to the inn, but as he stares at the Djinn who has collapsed on the bed, ignoring the wreckage of their room, he knows its because he doesn’t want to let Jaskier out of his sight for a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt takes Djinn Jaskier to Kaer Morhen for the first time. 
> 
> He learns a bit more about what a Djinn’s broken vessel means. 
> 
> _This is the chapter you’ve all been waiting for, mutual pining and finally getting together._

The ability to find Jaskier with the help of the Will-o'-the-Wisps does not go away. 

It’s rather helpful, Geralt thinks, and makes him feel more comfortable about Jaskier wandering off on his own. But the days are growing shorter and colder, summer turning into fall, fall into winter, and Geralt is feeling the tug in his chest pulling him towards home. 

“Would you like to go to Kaer Morhen with me?” Geralt asks. He figures it’s only polite to ask, even though he’s pretty sure the bound Djinn would have to follow him anyway, but it’s the principle of the matter. So, he asks. He isn’t entirely sure how a Djinn would react to being forced into a keep with three other suspicious Witchers. Turns out, he didn’t have much to worry about.

“Would I ever?” Jaskier’s eyes light up in pure delight. Geralt is just glad that he asked him when they were in the middle of nowhere, because he’s pretty sure Jaskier couldn’t plant his feet on the ground right now if he wanted to. The rampant joy that runs its way through the Djinn’s body lifts him higher than Geralt had ever seen it before, surpassing even where he sits perched on Roach. “Oh, this is an absolute delight.” The bard practically crows, spinning in the air triumphantly. “When do we leave?” 

Geralt sighs. “They might not like you, you know. Since you’re a Djinn and all, and they can tell. You won’t be able to feign human around them.” He warms. 

Jaskier shrugs, unbothered. “They’ll love me,” He spits confidently. “I’m a joy to be around.” 

Geralt just hums. If only he had such confidence. 

——  
Once again, it appears he did not need to worry. 

As soon as they still get to the Keep, Geralt is knocked to the ground by his pair of enthusiastic brothers, who are happy to see him again. Jaskier waits patiently a few paces back, having had to dodge out of the way in order not to get crushed under the weight of the three Witcher dogpile that was currently happening. The behavior, sudden movement, and loud noises didn't scare Roach, so Jaskier takes that it’s a common occurrence.

“Who’d you bring with you?” 

It’s Lambert who breaks apart from the bunch first, eyeing Jaskier with something flirty in his eyes, taking note of the fancy clothing and turquoise cloak that the bard has wrapped around his shoulders. Jaskier had insisted on getting it in the last town they passed through on their way here. _“I may be a magical creature.” Jaskier complained. “But not all of us are enchanted to be unbothered by the cold.”_ And so, the cloak had been bought. 

The brothers turned to Geralt, waiting for an explanation. “Jaskier.” Geralt says, getting to his feet. “Bard.” 

“Elegant as ever, dear.” Jaskier teases. 

Eskel eyes the bard with a suspicious glare. “He smells of Chaos.” 

Jaskier nods. “That would make sense. You’re going to find out one way or another so, nice to meet you. I’m Jaskier, the bard. Also a Djinn.” He grins his most stunning smile and gives a little bow. 

Eskel whirls on Geralt immediately. “You got involved with a Djinn?” He practically snarls, astonished and upset.

Geralt rubs a hand over his face with a sigh, shooting Jaskier a look.

“You can hardly blame me.” The Djinn comes to his defense, walking closer. “If one of these two didn’t sniff it out, Vesemir certainly would have. And besides, you can’t expect me to stay grounded for the next three months.” 

Geralt pats Jaskier on the shoulder. “Let’s go inside.” 

It’s only the grip that Geralt has on the back of his cloak that keeps Jaskier from floating across the entrance to the Keep. The amount of excitement that wells up in him quickly replaces the indignant anger, and the Djinn feels like he’d float all the way up to the high, looming ceiling before he’d be able to get himself under control. 

Vesemir greets them next to the fireplace, and any introductions are ignored by Jaskier, who makes himself at home next to the fire. He keeps an ear on the conversation in the background, in case he needs to help come to Geralt’s defense, but doesn’t want to get involved if he doesn’t have to. It’s a little more complicated than what Geralt explains, and the Djinn is just glad his Witcher isn’t too fond of giving details. It makes it hard when composing epic ballads, but for the sake of his secret, this particular character trait will work in his favor. 

It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything from Geralt purposely, it’s just that his Witcher doesn’t know too much about Djinn lore, or so it would seem, and other Witchers would. Vesemir definitely would, and Jaskier is afraid that once his secret was discovered, he’d get thrown out of the Keep to fend for himself. He likes traveling with Geralt, that’s the entire reason he stayed after his amphora broke. He’s technically free now, his vessel is broken, and the magic binding him to his master his gone, but Geralt only lets him travel with him because they’re bound, so it’s best to let him think that he still is. The Djinn wants to stick around with his newfound friend for as long as he can. 

“He’s not causing any harm.” Geralt grumbles, frustrated, and Jaskier takes this as his cue to step in. 

“I promise not to cause any mischief this winter.” He says, springing up from his place by the fire and walking over, planting himself by Geralt’s side. “Okay, well…” He curls up into himself, floating back into the air as he thinks. “I promise not to cause _too_ much mischief. I mean, come on,” He uncurls gesturing dramatically. “Have you seen this place? It’s magnificent! A little drab but-“

“Jaskier.” Geralt intones.

“Right, sorry.” He apologizes, quieting himself, but remains in the air, floating right side up, but belly down, next to Geralt. 

Vesemir glances between the two of them unamused but resigned. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, boy, but he can stay.”  
——  
Weeks pass in the Keep as each member is kept busy. Jaskier and Lambert get on like a house on fire, while Eskel remains wary, and Vesemir stays defeated. It’s Eskel who Geralt ends up confiding in, as he decides what to do with his last wish.

“I only have one wish left.” Geralt says out of nowhere when they are cleaning and sharpening their weapons together one afternoon. 

Eskel raises an eyebrow, pausing what he was doing to stare at him incredulously. “And that is a problem… why?” 

Geralt huffs, continuing to work on his sword to avoid making eye contact. “When I use my last wish, he’ll be gone, right?” 

Eskel shrugs. “Then use it and get him out of here. Djinns are nothing but trouble.”

Geralt stops, looking up to level with his brother. “Jaskier isn’t trouble. He doesn’t start fights or make my life hell, he- well, if anything, he helps. He sings songs praising Witchers, makes sure I sleep in town more often, eat regularly, that I get all the money promised for a contract. He’s good company, Eskel. He’s not afraid of me, he’s not going to die in 3 decades and hurt me if I get attached.” 

There’s silence as Geralt trails off, and Eskel thinks about what he has said. “Doesn’t sound half bad.” He admits after a while. “Sounds kinda like you like him.” 

Geralt flushes the tiniest of bits and Eskel crows with laughter, his sword clattering to the ground as he takes a second to get himself back under control. Geralt throws the whetstone he was using at his brother in retaliation. “Shut up.” He grumbles. 

“Oh, you totally do! Who has ever heard of a master falling in love with their Djinn?” 

Geralt’s face wrinkles at the choice of words. “I’m not his master.” 

“Oh, right. He only has to do whatever you say.” 

“No, he doesn’t. In fact,” Something akin to fondness runs across the Witcher’s face. “most of the time he doesn’t even listen to what I say. All he has to do is grant me three wishes. Other than that, I couldn’t wrangle him even if I wanted to.”

“You seemed to have him pretty under control when you first got here.”

Geralt shakes his head. “We’re equals.” He insists. “He just listened to me because we’re friends. And I want to use my last wish to set him free. Then, if he wants to stay, he can.” 

“If you’re friends, why wouldn’t he want to stay?” 

“I haven’t exactly... told him.” Geralt confesses quietly. Eskel shoots him an astonished look, opening his mouth to say something when Geralt speaks again, cutting him off. “It’d be weird, you know? To tell him that I think of him as a friend when he only follows me around because he has too. I mean, sure, we get along, but the only reason he stays is because he’s tied to me and has to be there to fulfill my wishes.” 

Eskel takes a second to consider it. “Have you purposely not used your third wish because you wanted to keep him around?” Geralt nods, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Gods, you look like a kicked puppy,” Eskel teases, “pinning for your Djinn.” 

Geralt’s golden gaze jerks up from the floor, burning into his brother with the embarrassed anger welling up inside him. “I am _not_ pining.” 

Eskel laughs. “You absolutely are. You’re in love with Jaskier!”

“No, I’m not.” Geralt snaps back, but it comes out more like a whine than the growl he had intended. Geralt tackles his brother to the ground as Eskel continues to tease him, and all thoughts of his third wish are put out of his mind for now, as they brawl together on the ground.  
———  
Jaskier makes sure to seclude himself when he plays melancholy songs.

He is currently composing something about a longing maiden whose lover is always just out of reach. And if the maiden just so happens to be chasing a tall, dark and handsome man, with hair like the moon and eyes like the sun, well, that’s just a coincidence. 

He’s perched in one of the large window sills in a tower that looms above the rest of the keep. It’s rather small, the one room with the large window, but it’s good for looking out at the dark evening sky, counting the stars as they appear, watching the moon rise. It’s peaceful and it’s quiet and, well, the acoustics of this room are the best he’s found so far, so he can’t really complain. 

When he’s not singing, he thinks about Geralt. His friend. 

_Friend._ Ha. 

Jaskier laughs at himself.

As far as he’s concerned, he’s made it pretty obvious that he’s in love with the Witcher, and even if it’s not something anyone else can see, he knows it’s true because he’s still here, even though he’s free. He could go anywhere, burying himself in food, women, and wine, but he doesn’t. He deals with Lambert’s teasing about his pining, Eskel’s distrustful nature, and Vesemir’s reluctance to even let him stay because he’s a Djinn. He wonders how quickly he’d be thrown out if they knew he was here because he wanted to. 

And how pitiful is that? 

Jaskier has always been slightly different than other Djinn. He was more curious than spiteful, preferred adventure over power, helping people over hurting them. But he has never heard of a Djinn falling in love with someone who held their three wishes. He knows Geralt sees him as an equal, never makes him do anything he doesn’t want to, cares about his safety. But that’s because he is trapped with the Witcher, and Geralt sees him as his responsibility, as a liability. 

He plucks at the lute discordantly, random notes filtering out into the open air. He’s so lost in thought, in misery, in pining, that he doesn’t notice the lights flickering nearby, Will-o'-the-Wisps lighting the room a bright cyan, and a deep purplish-blue. It’s Geralt’s voice that startles him out of his thoughts, not the footsteps on stone or the Witcher’s presence interrupting the atmosphere of the room.

“Jaskier.” Geralt begins. The Djinn jumps, startled into the air, hitting his head against the stone above him. 

“Oh, Geralt.” The Djinn says, rubbing his head as he floated back down. “Is everything okay?” He takes note of the Witcher’s tense posture. 

“I’d like to use my last wish.” Geralt announces after a moment, his voice quiet. 

Jaskier feels like he’s been thrown into a pond in the middle of the winter. Or, perhaps, that’s just what he’d rather be doing than having this conversation right now. 

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Jaskier tries to tease, but it sounds fake as he’s trying to suppress the bitter laughter rising up in his throat. 

“No, I want to set you free.” Geralt continues, but Jaskier is only half listening, his ears ringing. “I just don’t know the best way to do it. I’d like for you to be able to be… you, but not bound to me. If you still wanted to travel with me, that would be nice, but I’d like for you to have a choice in all this. I don’t want to keep forcing you to do things you don’t want to.” 

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier crosses the room to stand in front of the Witcher, an unreadable expression on his face. “You don’t have a third wish.” Geralt takes a step back, shock and betrayal radiating from him. “That got taken from you when my amphora broke. You fool,” Jaskier continues, but it’s something of fondness and sadness rather than hate. “You absolute fool. I’ve been traveling with you of my own free will for months.”

The room falls silent as Geralt processes, but the tension and fear filters from the air, replaced with something smelling sweet like hope. “You like traveling with me?”

Jaskier collapses back into the air, curling up into a ball, chucking with giddy disbelief. “Do I like traveling with you? Of course, I do! It’s the freest I have been in centuries. I thought I annoyed you, so I let you believe that I still was tied to you because I didn’t want you to get rid of me.” 

“Annoyed by you?” Geralt parrots back in a similarly stunned fashion. “I’m not annoyed by you, I’m in love with you.” 

Geralt’s words have Jaskier plummeting out of the air, thudding against the stone floor and staring up at the Witcher in pure disbelief. Geralt offers a wordless hand, helping him to his feet. They stare at each other for a moment, cornflower in molten gold, before Jaskier whispers. “I love you too.” 

“I think it’s only fair you grant me my third wish.” Geralt says suddenly, pulling Jaskier to his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Is that so?” 

“You owe me.” Geralt insists. 

Jaskier looks at him mischievously. “Oh, do I? And what would that wish be?”

“Kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, but if I get any more ideas for this universe, I absolutely will write more. 
> 
> A good fluffy drabble sounds nice...


End file.
